


"If you want it...I mean"

by Madworld



Series: Quiet love [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, The Marauders - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:59:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2060244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madworld/pseuds/Madworld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas can be cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"If you want it...I mean"

Christmas. 

Two days until the monster

Snow, cold and pure. 

Sirius wrapped in scarves and long coats. Woolly jumpers tugged over rumpled waistcoats and shirts. 

Always cold.

Cheekbones like glass, eyes like wet pebbles, quiet smile. 

Ice in his hair, twitching as it melted and ran down his back. 

Remus huffed a laugh and wiped the water away, swept gentle fingers over dark ink. 

He could never make out the tattoo. 

Bone white moon like a rose petal in the night. 

Full. 

Dragged out howls of anguish, echoing, lost in the trees. 

Sirius unsure. Licks ragged lips. He’s bitten the pink flesh bloody, instead of breaking his promise to James.

Peter falls asleep, thin face, frowning.

James twists glasses in his hands, rubs at the lenses halfheartedly, glances towards the window where Sirius leans against the glass. Eyes squeezed shut before snapping open again, whispering darling. 

Morning paints the sky watery orange. 

James sleeping. Glasses strangely angled on his nose. Still clothed. The armchair is comfy enough for now. 

Agitation making Sirius breathe wrong. 

There’s a muted voice. Tired and cracked. 

Remus. 

Pale. Scratched. Blood like red ink. 

Wide brown eyes, wet and empty. 

Chair by the fire, warm. 

Cold clothes pulled away. 

Notices pyjamas have been left by the fire, warmth seeped through flesh into stone bones. Caused by not just the clothes. 

Sirius’ hands, slender, pale, bones moving like clockwork beneath silk skin. 

Hands something to Remus. Hesitantly. 

Jumper. Deep blues and greys. Tattered at the hem. 

Scent of warmth and winter at the same time. 

Sirius. 

“If you want it…I mean”


End file.
